


Mary Sue

by gritsinmisery



Series: What do you do with a Mary Sue? [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anachronistic, Crack, M/M, Mary Sue, POV Third Person Omniscient, Self-Insert, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gritsinmisery/pseuds/gritsinmisery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Fifth Doctor AU, written on a dare -- make a Mary Sue / Self-Insert that might actually be entertaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Craaaaack!

**Author's Note:**

> Post-_Logopolis_, but then all bets are off -- all Five's original companions are ignored.
> 
> TARDISes are viewed as sentient (and possibly sexual) beings.
> 
> The Fourth Wall is not only broken, but deliberately smashed to bits.
> 
> Jade speaks a horrid mix of U.K. and U.S. English.

It’s the TARDIS console room, circa Earth year 1982: small, white; roundels on the walls, viewing screen on one wall, floor empty except for the console in the middle and a bent-wood coat rack, the door with the zigzag edge leading outside, an opening with no door leading further into the interior.  The time rotor is going; we’re in flight.  
   
Suddenly there’s the sound of another TARDIS materializing, and there’s another exterior door on the wall next to the original, and that wall’s a little thicker.  The new door opens outwards (rather than inwards) from the console room just a crack, and the-Master-formerly-known-as-Tremas-of-Traken peeks out.  Seeing no one, he grins evilly and emerges from what we know is his TARDIS; one with a functioning chameleon circuit, the lucky, sneaky bastard.  
   
Walking over to the console, obviously planning something devious, he discovers console parts spread around the floor and half a body, in a coverall and boots, sticking out of the base.  He can hear the clank of metal on metal and low muttering from inside the console, and so concludes that there is indeed a whole body rather than just the half he sees.

“Doctor?” he inquires.  He hasn’t seen the Doctor since dumping him to his death off a radio telescope on Earth, but he’s pretty certain there’s no way any regeneration of the Doctor would be caught wearing a coverall.  Granted, he has popped in unexpectedly, but still… his best enemy is a pretty vain fellow.  
   
A low female voice, muffled by the console, answers, “Try the cloister.  He’s trying to figure out why that damn bell’s ringing.  Again.”  There’s a crack of electricity, followed by, “Mother-puss-bucket, old girl!  I’m trying to fix that.  Quitcher bitchin’.”  
   
The cloister bell reverberates throughout the TARDIS to lend credence to the female’s answer.  It does so at regular intervals during the rest of this piece, so just keep hearing it for yourself and save me the typing.

“Rani?” the Master tries.  Temporal mechanics wasn’t exactly her area, but if she was trying to sabotage the TARDIS, maybe it could happen.  But he really can’t picture her in a coverall, either.  Not that he doesn’t give it a go, maybe one with a zip open down to _there_…  
   
“Oh, please!  From what I’ve heard, she wouldn’t be caught dead and out of regenerations under here.  Nope, just an Earther.”

The Master chuckles, “Ah, a new pet.  At least, I’m assuming so, since you don’t sound like either of the females he was traveling with last time I saw him.”  Yup, this is where we go AU.  I’ve dumped Nyssa and Tegan.  Oh please; you don’t like them either.

He starts fiddling with knobs and dials on the console, and gets an instant response.  “Hey, knock that off up there.  If I have to swap the console over to completely isomorphic then we won’t be able to materialize until I get Himself back in here to reset it so I can finish putting her back together.  And lemme tell ya, he’s pretty hard to convince to do mundane things like that while the bell’s ringing.”  
   
The Master sneers and stops fiddling.  “Come out here where I can see you, girl.”  The clanking and muttering continues, as if an Evil Time Lord™ had not just given an order.  
   
He tries again.  “I am the Master.  You will obey me.”  Humans have come under the spell of his commanding voice for centuries.  
   
The response he gets is a very unladylike snort.  “Not damn likely.  I ain’t no _girl_, and I’m busy; I’ve got no time to play puppet for a moron with delusions of grandeur.  Try me later, mebbe.

“Why don’t you go find the Doctor, like a good Time Lord?  I’ll bet you haven’t seen him since you killed him.  You’ll like this regeneration; it’s young and pretty. The two of you can beat on each other, or have a battle of wits, or snog, or whatever the hell it is that keeps you two in orbit around each other.  Better yet, help him figure out why space-time is falling apart again.”  
   
If the Master could look nonplussed he would be, but all he can manage is to look irritated, which he is also.  “And who should I tell him let me know where he is?” he asked.  
   
“I told him my name was Jade.  It’s not my real one, it’s a joke-name, but I answer to it and that’s all he cares about.”  More clanking.  
   
“Jade?  Jay-Hay-Dee-Eee?  Just Another Damn Earthling?”  
   
The Master is rewarded with a sharp laugh.  “Whoo-hoo, got it in one. You know, if you’re not careful I might just like you.  He still hasn’t figured that out yet.  He’s good with a puzzle when you tell him that it is one, but if a life isn’t on the line then he’s a really oblivious idjit.  Now, off you go – go find your boyfriend and save the universe so I can get back to the old lady here.”

The Master, required by the rules of evil to have the last word, declares, “I’ll deal with you later, _girl_,” and heads for the interior of the TARDIS.  An adjustable spanner comes flying out from under the console, barely missing his ankle.  He stops and stares at it.  “Hmph.  Not even sonic.”  
   
“Who’d have sonic?” comes a yell from behind him as he continues on his way to find the Doctor.


	2. Craaaaack!

The cloister looks just like it did back when Adric was following the Doctor around it in circles before the trip to Logopolis: stone arches, stone columns, stone benches, lots of vines, and everything crumbling. The Doctor was serious about Newton being right, and Logopolis falling apart and trying to take the Universe with it didn't help matters. The Doctor's been too busy dealing with regeneration after-effects to reprogram the room.

Oh -- Adric. Where is he? It doesn't much matter. The Doctor hasn't been to Castrovalva and isn't going. Maybe we dumped Adric off with Nyssa or Tegan. Whiny brat.

The Master walks into the cloister to see the Doctor sitting on a bench in the middle, eyes closed. His body tenses up for just a millisecond every time the cloister bell rings. The Master stalks over to the bench and stands, staring down at his foe's latest regeneration. The girl under the console is right; it is a pretty regeneration, or it would be if it didn't look a bit mentally beat-up. And honestly, what is it with his old classmate and striped trousers?

"You look awful," the Master announces. He's going to let the Doctor decide whether he means the new body or its current state of health.

The Doctor doesn't open his eyes; neither does he take umbrage. He knows the new bod looks damn good; he had to stand in front of a mirror to try on new outfits, didn't he? He also knows that he's tired and worried, and he's not really surprised to find out that it shows. "Yes, well, being tipped off the antenna knocked more than just the wind out of me, thanks ever so. And regenerating seems to take more energy every time I do it."

The Master just snorts. He's gone through all his regenerations and stolen a body, to boot. Been there, done that, got the black leather gloves, mate. "So, why aren't you in a Zero room, having a lie-down?" he asks.

"With this bell going? Mortal danger, remember? Not the done thing." The Doctor still has his eyes closed, and that damn bell's still ringing.

"Time Lord, remember? Take tea, catch a football match on telly, then pop back and save the Universe? Simple, really. Not that I could be bothered, but… Anyway, what was the problem the last time it went off?"

"You'd materialized your TARDIS right around mine and set off a space-loop. Freaked the old girl silly." The Doctor opens his eyes finally to glare up at the Master. "Hey, wait a minute! How did you get in here? I've got some new controls set to keep you from pulling that same stunt."

The Master shakes his head to indicate that he hasn't done a repeat. "My TARDIS is parked in your console room, not wrapped around yours. I was surprised I could do that; it's never worked before. But your new pet has half the console spread out on the floor. I guess she's got the security system off-line."

"Jaaaade…" The Doctor makes it sound like a curse. Then he does a mental double-take. "Wait, you met her? Oh, Rassilon…" He makes a mad dash for the console room, certain he's lost another companion to the Master's control.

"Honestly, Doctor, she's fine. I couldn't be bothered," the Master calls out, following him through the halls.

The Doctor skids to a halt at the entrance to the console room and sure enough, it's just like the Master says he left it: parts on the floor, Jade underneath the console, muttering. "Jade!" he calls, urgently.

"Whut?" she replies, not bothering to come out.

The Doctor clasps his hands behind his back and rocks back on his heels. "Might I speak with you for a minute?"

"Talk. I'm listening."

"Face to face, please." The Doctor sighs. There's an echo from inside the console.

Hands grab the outside of the console and pull their owner out, and she scrambles to her feet, yanking a pair of magnifying glasses off her face and dropping them beside her on the floor. We believe her claim that Jade is not her real name; she is truly far from exotic. She's short, even for an Earth-girl, with enough curves that you can see 'em despite the baggy coverall she's wearing. The shoulder-length blonde curls are pretty, but they frame a colorless, round, plain face with light gray eyes set far too close together, with eyebrows and lashes that are light blonde, too. This is what is sometimes described as "a good face for radio." And it's a face that has seen well more than 40 Earth-years. She has a right to be upset with the Master calling her "girl" even if he does have 800 years or more on her.

She rubs her hands down her already-dirty coverall thighs. There's scorch mark on the back of her left hand where the TARDIS objected to being poked at, a smudge of something greasy on the tip of her nose, and a matching streak on her forehead. She wipes her hair off her forehead and rubs her nose with the edge of her wrench-filled right hand, effectively demonstrating how she came by both grease-marks. Then she parks both hands on her hips. "So, talk. If I don't put her back together, we don't materialize. I'd like to get a couple more repairs in before I do that, unless you two have already figured out why the universe is falling apart and we need to get somewhere pronto. Which I doubt," she finishes, _sotto voce_.


	3. Aaaaaah.  More Crack.

The Master holds out one hand toward Jade and shrugs at the Doctor as if to say, "See? Unharmed."

The Doctor looks at the Master and rolls his eyes as if to say, "See what I'm putting up with?"

Jade looks back and forth between both and rolls her eyes to say, "Men. They'd rather have their fingernails pulled out than utter two intelligent sentences in a row."

"So," she continues speaking to the Doctor, "Did you really have something to say, or were you just worried that Tall-Dark-and-Evil there had put the whammy on me?"

The Doctor can look nonplussed, and he does so, along with abashed and a few other of those words you only find in thesauruses and wordy fiction. "Yes, well… the latter, actually."

"He did try, but I wouldn't come out so he could look me in the eye. I _have_ been listening to you."

The Doctor turns to the Master, crosses his arms, and raises his eyebrows. "Couldn't be bothered?" he repeats.

The Master tilts his chin up so he can look down his nose superciliously at the Doctor, a tricky feat since the Doctor's a good three inches taller than the Master in their current bodies. It works, however. He's been practicing in the mirror. "It didn't seem worth any extra effort, given that she'd already told me where you were with the first words out of her mouth."

The Doctor turns back to Jade, arms still crossed, eyebrows still raised.

"I could hear the time rotor as he materialized, and besides, who else but a Time Lord could pop into a dematerialized TARDIS in flight? As far as I can tell, there isn't any of that lot that you can't handle. Although you do look a bit worn at the mo' – why don't you pop into the Zero room for a nap?"

The Master snorts and smirks to hear his advice repeated by one of the Doctor's companions. The Doctor ignores him and continues, "And he shouldn't have been able to materialize at all, come to that. Why is the security system off-line?" He realizes he's whining like a cranky toddler. Damn.

"I was trying to tweak the dimensional stabilizer so the rooms stay put unless you tell them to move. I'm tired of playing hide-and-seek with the toilet when I really need to use it. But the security system's tied into that so it can keep track of all the rooms, so I had to disconnect it. I've just finished with that bit; I can put it back online in just a tic." She makes to duck back under the console.

"No, the horse is out of the barn now, or rather, the fox is in the hen house… Oh, bother." The Doctor rubs his eyes.

"Right. That's it. Zero room. Nap!" commands Jade. She takes him by the shoulders, turns him about, and gives him a gentle shove out of the console room. Amazingly, there are no greasy handprints on his pretty beige jacket. When he stops and turns back, she announces, "I'm putting her back together as soon as you lie down. When you've rested, she'll be ready to materialize anywhere you'd like." She gives him another push in the right direction. He just shakes his head and goes.

She's gathering up her magnifying glasses and her tools when she remembers she still has an audience. She straightens up and looks at him. He looks at her. She looks at him. He looks at her. "What?" she finally asks.

He walks up to her and tips her chin up with one gloved finger so she's staring him in the eyes. "Oh, shit," she remarks calmly. "Is this where I get the whammy?"

The Master grins at her, and it's almost not evil. "Come over to the dark side. We've got biscuits," he says. There's no whammy in it.

"Make it a margarita, and I might just take you up on it." She grins back. Then she turns back toward the console, breaking his touch. "Seriously, though, I do need to put the old lady back together."

He takes hold of her arm. "Don't you think I should leave my opponent at a disadvantage? Evil, remember?"

She shoves her magnifying glasses back on her face and turns back toward him. She looks kind of bug-eyed. "Come up on him already crippled and wipe him out? Now, where's the job satisfaction in that? Let me put his TARDIS back together, let him have a nap, and then you can take him apart piece by piece from the whole. It can't be any fun to pick on him when he's too tired and stupid to fight back."

He tilts his head to one side and considers her words. "Well, since you put it that way… He does look all-in at the moment. If," he adds, "I can, as you so charmingly put it, 'put the whammy' on you without a struggle when you're done there." He's got a pretty good idea she could put a spanner in his works as well as she does a TARDIS's.

She screws up her face, not really wanting to be a mindless slave but thinking she can at least get a couple of licks in this way before it happens. "Can I have a shower first?" she bargains.

He looks her up and down. Rassilon, she's filthy. "Done," he agrees.


	4. It's plot exposition.  It has to go somewhere.

There's the now-expected clanking and muttering coming from inside the console base. The Master is leaning on one elbow on the console, occasionally passing parts to Jade as she requests them and wondering why in Rassilon's name he's doing it. Figuring _scientia est potentia_ and he never gets enough of either, he starts to question her.

"You're human. Why do you know how to fix a TARDIS?"

"Twenty questions? Okay, you're helping; I'll play:

"Time Agent. Well, former Time Agent. Mechanic. Went to the academy, but apparently I told the wrong person 'no' about the wrong thing – I never did figure out exactly who or what – and found myself on the grease-monkey track for 'not having the proper mind-set.' Which, knowing a bunch of the Agents that were considered successful, means I wasn't amoral enough for 'em. So anyway, if it's a time machine, I've been taught how to fix it. The dimensional stuff I had to pick up on my own, but I seem to have the hang of it. Is there still a spare flux capacitor lying around out there?"

The Master looks around, scoops one up off the floor, and places it in the greasy hand sticking out of the console base. The hand disappears. "Why are you with the Doctor?" he asks.

"The moron I was shipping with got himself killed, and the locals confiscated our boat for burial costs. The planetary war that said moron was supposed to have prevented broke out. Lo and behold, here comes the Doctor, manages to settle it despite being regeneration-sick, then collapses on me with just barely enough sense left to tell me where he's parked. I got him in here; we dematerialized; he had me drag him into the Zero room. After a while I got bored of picking my nose and hunting for the bathroom and thought I'd see what was under the console. When I saw what a mess the old girl's in, I decided to tidy up a bit.

"Occasionally he came out of the Zero room for something to eat, and I've gotten the scoop on who and what you guys are. Then the cloister bell started ringing and he's become rather unmanageable. I thought for a minute I was going to have to ask you to do something that you'd have enjoyed but that would have pissed him off, so I could get him back into the Zero room. But he went along like a good boy. Can you make tea?"

The Master just blinks for a moment at the unexpected question, then replies, "Not in my job description."

"You neither, huh? I mean, I can stand to drink what I make, but I've been told countless times in no uncertain terms never to inflict it on anybody else. Oh, well, I can do without, I guess. There you are, milady, back in one piece and might I add, a much neater and prettier shape than I found you in." Jade slides out from under the console and replaces the panel in the base.

She drops all her tools and her glasses in the toolbox next to the console and picks it up. "If you'll excuse me, I have a date with hot water and soap. You could make yourself useful and figure out why the damn bell's ringing. Oops, sorry, forgot – evil. Well, never mind. I'd say 'back in a jiff' but I plan on taking my time. Rather fond of my free will, for some odd reason. And don't bother the Doctor. It was part of the bargain."

As she takes off into the interior, the Master turns back to the console and tries several dials. "Dammit, girl, you set it on isomorphic!"

"Never said I wouldn't; that _wasn't_ part of the bargain!" came the cheery reply from down the hall.


	5. More crack. And snark. And a trip to the wardrobe.

Jade stands in the doorway of the TARDIS's wardrobe room, in her bare feet and a tatty old pastels-and-white-striped terrycloth robe.  "I refuse to be a mindless zombie while wearing a coverall," she mutters to herself.  "I wonder which section of this stuff would fit?"  
   
The lights in a section 2/3rds of the way down the long room come up.  What, you didn't know a Type-40 could do that?  Did you ever ask?  No, I thought not.  
   
"Oh thanks, sweetheart, I didn't know you were listening," exclaims Jade.  "Nothing obviously from any one time period, please.  And preferably nothing that anybody else who hung around here earlier had a habit of wearing."  Half the lights go back down.  Jade walks over to the section that is lighted.  
   
"Okay, do you feel like helping?  I've pretty much indentured myself to Dr. Evil to keep him off the Doctor's case long enough for him to recuperate…"  Hangers rattle and tilt, and a pair of black jeans and a black scoop-neck stretch top fall to the floor.

"Um, honey, I'm old enough to be somebody's grandma, although I'm not, thank my lucky stars.  Besides, all that black will make him think I'm pandering to him.  I need something that makes me look intelligent enough to be worth letting me keep my free will so I can help him, not looking stupid enough that I think I can seduce him."  
   
More hangers rattle.  A medium-blue dress shirt falls to the floor, then a pair of chocolate-brown trousers, then a tweed jacket in browns with chocolate-brown elbow patches.  
   
"Professorial, old girl?  Well, you know him better than I do.  Where's the mirror?" she says, scooping up the clothes.  The light comes on down at the end of the room.  
   
Avert your eyes, you pervvy lot.  She's dressing.  
   
Checking her reflection in the mirror, Jade murmurs, "You've got good taste, milady."  Everything's the right size, and all of it is tailored to hug her body.  The shirt makes her eyes look blue to match.  The browns bring out the gold in her hair and skin.  "To hell with the Master.  I look damn good.  They can put it on my grave: 'Best-looking zombie ever'.  Shoes?" 

The lights come up all around her and damn, if it ain't paradise in a box!  She grabs a pair of chocolate brown dress boots and heads back for her room.  "Thanks, sweetheart!" she calls as she heads out the door.  The lights go out behind her.  
   
Later, when she gets back to the console room, it's deserted.  "I hope he's not off causing trouble," she mutters.  "A girl can't even have a bath."  Then she notices that the extra 'outside door' is cracked open.  Aha, he's in his TARDIS.  Time to poke a stick in his cage and see how loud he roars.  Always tricky when the cage door's not locked…  
   
"Yo, bad guy!  Where ya at?" she calls, leaning on the console on one elbow and crossing one foot over the other.  
   
The Master walks out of his TARDIS.  "I prefer 'Master' as a form of address," he announces.  
   
"I'll just bet you do," Jade says agreeably and grins.  "Whatcha been up to?"  
   
"Oh, plotting the conquest of the Universe and the downfall of my favorite enemy.  The usual."  He looks her up and down.  The clothes are quite a change.  And is she wearing makeup?  "Who are you, and what did you do with the little Terran grease-monkey?" he asks.

"I clean up decently."  She stands up.  "I'm hungry.  Do you want something to eat, too?" she asks.  
   
"You're just delaying it," grumbles the Master.  
   
"Yup.  But I _am_ hungry.  Doesn't a well-fed mindless slave last longer before collapsing?"  
   
He pulls a face, hating it when a lesser race shows him up.  "Fine.  You may serve me."  
   
"Whoa there, mister.  I ain't 'serving' you.  I'm making myself a meal, and I offered to fix extra.  Didn't they teach you any manners at that fancy Time Lord academy?"  
   
"Far too many.  And rituals, and non-interference, and, and, and.  Which is why I renounced the entire society, as did, might I point out, the Doctor.  Besides, imperious is a far more appropriate attitude for someone evil."  
   
Jade nods.  "Yeah, my professors were assholes, too.  And don't worry about the whole evil thing; you've got it down pat.  A simple thank-you on occasion won't ruin your reputation.  So… foodstuffs, the obtaining of.  Your place or mine?"  She gestures with one hand toward the door of the Master's TARDIS, with the other toward the interior of the Doctor's.  
   
Jade on his TARDIS with her free will intact?  The Master doesn't think so.  "You know your way around his galley," he replies.  
   
"Damn.  You know I'll actually have to cook?  A Type-40 doesn't have an auto-mat. Or at least this one doesn't."  Jade is annoyed.  Whining, even.  
   
"Don't offer options you don't want chosen.  Watching you should be quite entertaining; I haven't seen someone cook in decades."  The Master's grin is quite evil now.  It's about time he got a bit of his own back on this obnoxious human.  "Or do you cook so badly that it's inedible?"  
   
She wrinkles up her nose at him.  "It ain't gourmet, but I haven't killed anybody yet."  Then another thought occurs to her and she's smiling again.  "Of course, this means it'll take a while…"  She heads down the hall toward the galley.  
   
"Of course."  The Master rolls his eyes and follows.  He's beginning to think it'll never be whammy-time.  Whammy-time?  Oh, Rassilon.  Now he sounds like her.


	6. Have some more whine with your crack?

"…so I said, 'That's not engine lubricant, that's Janx spirits, you idiot.  She doesn't have a rotor out of balance; she's drunk!' He just looked at me, took a swig out of the bottle, and said, 'Damn.  I do believe you're right.'  Then he passed out.  So I learned first, to hide my stash in a bottle marked 'eau de toilet water,' and second, that Jim Hinds, Time Agent Extraordinaire, couldn't hold his liquor.  That knowledge came in handy a time or two."

The Master smiles.  He doesn't want to, it isn't properly evil behavior to be entertained by some story told by a pet.  But he is feeling mellow, and therefore generous.  Besides, sooner or later she'll run out of stories, and then he has her.  There, that thought brought an evil smile.

"My, isn't this cozy?"  The Doctor walks into his galley to find his latest companion and his best enemy sitting at a table with recently emptied plates and a half-empty bottle of wine.  The Master looks… content, and not the look he gets when he's been torturing someone, either.  
   
Jade just looks up at him and takes a sip of wine.  The Master, however, looks slightly guilty.  "You're supposed to be resting," he says in an accusing tone.  
   
"I smelled food.  I'm hungry."  The Doctor's stomach rumbles to confirm his declaration.  Time Lords have peristalsis.  Who knew?  
   
"You can't smell or hear anything in there; a Zero room exists out of space-time."  Yup, there's definitely a whine in the Master's voice.  Sounds like somebody didn't want his party crashed.  
   
Jade, who has risen and gone over to the food-prep area, pats the counter.  "Good girl," she whispers.  She knows damn well the TARDIS piped that smell into the Zero room.  Raising her voice, she says, "I've kept a plate warm for you.  Sit."

"You told me there wasn't any more!" complains the Master.

"I lied," states Jade pleasantly, setting down a plate in front of the Doctor and taking away the one in front of the Master, as well as her own.

"You're not… waiting on him, are you?" asks the Doctor, chewing a bite.  
   
"I made myself some food; it would have been rude not to offer him some.  Just like it's rude to talk with your mouth full.  Do all Time Lords renounce good manners when they go renegade?"

The Doctor, who is still chewing as fast as he can fill his mouth, decides not to answer.  The Master – who has already had this discussion and isn't really certain he came out on top – just finishes his wine.

Standing, the Master inquires, "Shall we, Jade?"  He displays his best evil smile.  It's a smirk, really.  He practices this look weekly in front of a mirror, just to make certain he keeps the skill sharp.  Spends a lot of time in front of that mirror, does our antagonist.  
   
The Doctor looks back and forth between the other two, stops chewing, and swallows.  "Shall we what?"  He looks quite confused.  Step into a Zero room for a nap, and everything goes to hell while you're resting.  
   
The Master is hoping Jade will be embarrassed enough at having made the bargain to leave without telling the Doctor what she's done.  Jade, on the other hand, would rather deal with the Doctor's recriminations than hand over her free will without trying everything possible to avoid it, including enlisting the aide of a recovering-from-regeneration-sickness Time Lord.  A long shot is better than no shot.

"Yeah, um, well, that thing he tried when he first materialized here?  The one you were afraid he'd managed?  He still wants to do that," Jade admits.  
   
The Doctor stares at her for a moment, then the light dawns.  He stands up and turns to glare at the Master.  "You want to take over my companion?  Get your own!"  Oh dear, he's gone all petulant-school-boy.  Not helpful.  
   
"I'm trying to!  This one's not your type; she's not all dewy-eyed and helpless: 'Ohhhhh, Doctor!'"  The Master lays the back of his hand on his forehead and bends his knees in a half-faint.  "And you – you promised no struggle!" the Master growls, turning to Jade.  
   
The Doctor steps between the other two.  "Hey!  Don't growl at her.  She's _my_ companion, you leave her alone!"  Mercy, this degenerated in a hurry.  It sounds like a couple of people in this room have issues.  Lots of 'em.

"My dear Doctor, how are you going to stop me?"  The Master gets right up in the Doctor's face, almost nose-to-nose.  Personal-Boundaries-Are-Not-Us, obviously.  It doesn't usually bother the Doctor too much, but this regeneration's not running at full capacity yet and he might just back off. 

Oh look – Jade's sneaking out of the room.  Smart Jade.  Neither Time Lord notices.  Bye, honey.

The Doctor's not backing down, but rather than a back-at-ya look, it's more deer-frozen-in-the-headlights.  And is he breathing faster?  Oh, his pupils are dilating.  Verrrry interesting.  
   
How 'bout that: the Master's eyes are nearly black, too.  He raises one ungloved hand to the Doctor's face.  (He took his gloves off to eat dinner.  Handy, that.)  The Doctor mirrors his action.  Are things going to get really ugly?  Mental battle?  Neurons being shredded?  
   
…  
   
Whoops.  They're snogging.  
   
…  
   
Uh-oh, it doesn't look like the Doctor's going to finish his dinner.  He and the Master are headed down the hall, still in a lip-lock.  Maybe we should come back later.


	7. Lucky Number Crack!

"I thought you couldn't make tea." Jade is leaning against the door frame of the galley, blinking sleepily at the Master.

He's sitting at the table, teapot in front of him, mug in his hands. He's staring, unfocused, with a very smug smile on his face. It's not a particularly evil smile, except that a smile of this extreme amount of smugness implies that the owner has done something that might be _considered_ evil amongst the more uptight species in the galaxy; his own included, in this instance. Somebody had a really good time last night. Maybe even two somebodies. We can't ask the other one; he's still asleep.

He blinks himself out of his reverie and looks at her, his smile shifting from smug to smirk. "I said it wasn't in my job description."

Nodding in agreement, she stands up. "So you did. Is there any left?"

The Master picks up the teapot and jiggles it a bit. "Not really. Put the kettle back on."

She pads over to the kettle in her bare feet and tatty robe, refills it, and sets it to heating. Yes, she's got something on under her robe. Sensible humans do not run around with alien species wearing only a bathrobe; not even Arthur Dent did that. Well, except for Jack Harkness, or whatever he's calling himself this century. But Jade Hodgins is not Jack Harkness, thank heaven. Otherwise, we'd never get our characters out of the bedroom. Don't know that you'd call Jack 'sensible,' anyway.

Jade stands leaning against the counter. The Master sits. They are two separate minds with but a single thought: "Well, isn't _this_ just domestic." It is left as an exercise for the reader to guess who finds it funny, and who is just disgusted. The kettle whistles and Jade whistles back, trying to match the pitch and failing by about a quarter of a step. "Stop that," mutters the Master.

Grabbing the teapot off the table, Jade dumps the remains and warms the pot. "Do you want any more?" she asks. "Because if I make it, trust me, you won't."

The Master sighs, stands, and takes the teapot away from her. What the hell is the point of keeping a member of a lesser species around if it can't perform the mundane tasks that you shouldn't have to?

One perfectly brewed pot of tea later – side benefit of being a Time Lord: internal timer – the Master stands directly in front of Jade, who is still leaning against the counter and appears to be attempting the ancient art of tea-leaf divination. "Are you going to keep your side of the bargain?" he asks casually.

"Can I get some breakfast first?" She won't look at him.

"This will just devolve into a repeat of yesterday. You'll want to eat, you'll want to change clothes, you'll think of some repair you have to make to the TARDIS, the Doctor will wake up and try to interfere…"

"You'll get laid…" she slips in right in cadence.

The Master's facial expression is a war between that very smug look from the second paragraph, and irritation at being both interrupted and caught out.

"My point, girl," he says, after taking a deep breath to regain his composure, and quite pleased that the 'girl' made Jade glower, "is that I know your tactics and I'm not going to ignore them any more. I kept my end of the bargain, which was better than you'd get from most evil beings. The TARDIS is in one piece and the Doctor is well rested. Well, mostly…" The Master's smug look reappears when he thinks about the reason the Doctor is currently out cold.

It then shifts to something quite threatening. "If you don't eat, get dressed, and immediately submit quietly without asking for one more thing, then by Rassilon and Omega I will do something terrible to this hunk of junk and its owner; something I should have done yesterday when neither was in a position to fight back."

"Okay," says Jade.

"Okay?" echos the Master, incredulous at her brevity.

"Okay," she repeats. "I'll grab a bite, get my stuff, and walk into your TARDIS. Without another word."

"No stalling..."

"As fast as I can go."

"No appeals to the Doctor if he shows up."

"I'll lie like a rug if he asks what's happening."

The Master stares at her for a moment. "What's the catch, girl?"

"No catch. The TARDIS will go a few more light-years and decades without percussive maintenance now; the Doctor is obviously feeling better. You kept up your end and then some. I'm yours." Jade finally looks up with that last sentence.

"Use my name." He loves this part.

"I'm yours. Master."

Bloody hell! Is she so protective of the Doctor?


	8. Pieces of crack!

"Hell-lo, pretty lady!" murmurs Jade, stepping inside the Master's TARDIS and dropping her toolbox and a duffle bag on the floor of the console room.  The roundel-covered walls are black, and the console has seats and nice monitors.  The Master only steals the best.  Jade walks over and runs her fingers along the edge of the console.  "I'll be taking care of you for a while, sweetie," she croons.  
   
"Hands off."  The Master strides over to the console and throws the door lever.  "No touching."  He glares at Jade.  
   
"I can't take care of her if I can't touch her," replies Jade, puzzled.  She lifts her hand off the console, but leaves it hovering.  
   
The Master snarls, "Does it look like it needs repairs?"  Now, what has his knickers in a twist, do you suppose?  She wasn't insulting his caretaking.  
   
"No, no.  Everything looks wonderful."  Jade turns her attention to the Master.  "But anything mechanical needs maintenance.  Blow the dust out, reseat the electrical connections, tighten up all those nasty little fixtures that work their way loose while we're in transit…" She's turned back to the console, and she's crooning and stroking again.  
   
The Master can feel his TARDIS… purring… through the psychic connection.  Fickle beast.  She wasn't really happy about being stolen without a proper introduction, and she occasionally acts up with no mechanical reason he can find.  He's pretty sure it's pay-back, for being stolen and for being referred to as 'it.'  "Cross-wire the dimensional stabilizer, disconnect the materialization circuit…" he finishes.  
   
Jade looks up at him with astonishment.  Oh shit, he thinks she's gonna sabotage his TARDIS.  "She's alive!  I could never do that to her.  Besides, I'm on this boat too, y'know.  Don't fancy being spread one millimeter thick across a couple of parsecs."  She turns back to the console.  "Noooo, can't mess up a pretty girl like you…"  
   
"Give it up," growls the Master.  "I'm not impressed."  
   
"I wasn't trying to impress you at the mo'.  Or is that the problem?"  She raises an eyebrow at him.  Fancy that – Mr. Bad-ass Evil Renegade Time Lord is feeling neglected.  Needy bastard.  This will be a lot of work.  
   
The Master inputs some codes and starts the dematerialization process.  "Just go stand over by your bags.  And Don't. Touch. Anything," he says between clenched teeth.  
   
==============

Jade's not in the console room.  She's not in the galley.  She's not in the bathroom, which amazingly enough is still where it was last night.  The Doctor tries her bedroom.  The bed's made, and the room's empty of her things except for one piece of paper on the bed.  
 

>   
> _I'm with the Master in his TARDIS.  We're still onboard somewhere, follow the materialization sounds._
> 
> _If he appears to have taken over my mind, do me a favor and get me away from him.  But if I seem to be my usual obnoxious self, let us go.  Consider your return to health, and your TARDIS's, as partial repayment for saving me from being stranded on a war-ridden planet.  I still owe you, and I'm doing my best to limit his damage as further payment on the debt._
> 
> _\--JADE_
> 
> _P.S.  Hope you got some sleep last night…_

==============

The time rotor on the Master's console stops just as it gets started.  Puzzled, he punches up an exterior view on his monitor.  It's the cloister in the Doctor's TARDIS!

Snarling, he inputs another set of coordinates and dematerializes again.  Again, the time rotor runs only a few seconds.  The exterior view shows the Doctor's galley.  The teapot's still on the table.

He punches in a third set of coordinates, dematerializes, and finds himself rematerialized in the Doctor's bedroom.  The bed's empty.  And wrecked, might I add.  What all did those boys do last night?  And what is that sticking out from under the bed?  Oh.  Naughty.

He whirls to Jade, who is leaning against the wall, bag and box at her feet, watching him with an air of interested nonchalance.  "What did you do to my TARDIS?" he yells.  He was watching her the entire time she was by the console; she didn't touch a single button or knob.  How did she do it?  
   
"Nothing.  But…" She smiles.  "I did turn the security system back on in the Doctor's TARDIS last night when I closed her up.  You're stuck here until you convince him to turn it off.  And, you, erm, might want to move us back to the console room before you try.  I don't know that 'the scene of the crime' is the best place to be persuasive."


	9. A stitch in crack!

The Doctor is leaning on the console of his TARDIS when there's the sound of materialization, and his console room suddenly gains another exterior door on a very thick wall.  He looks a bit smug.  He may not have been responsible for his old classmate's current predicament, but he can enjoy it just the same.  Especially since it was a human that created it.  Gotta love that species.  
   
The new door opens the wrong direction and the Master steps about halfway out; it looks like he's anxious to be able to step back inside in a hurry should the need arise. 

"Welcome back," says the Doctor.  "It appears Jade's teaching you another lesson in manners: the one about not leaving before telling your host good-bye?"  Especially someone whose bed and body you just spent quite some time wreaking havoc on, you smarmy bugger.  
   
"It seems your new security system works," acknowledges the Master.  "If you could just disengage it for a second, I'll be gone."  
   
The Doctor just stares at him.  "I believe you have something of mine," he replies, not moving.  
   
"What?  Oh, you mean my new pet.  She came quite willingly; believe me.  The best ones leave you before you get a chance to leave them, don't they, Doctor?"  The Master can't seem to resist getting a dig in, never mind that the Doctor has him trapped.  
   
"Yes, well, I'd prefer to have her tell me that herself.  Bring her out here.  Now."  Whaddaya know?  This regeneration does have a little steel in his spine, after all.

The Master leans back inside his TARDIS.  "Girl!  It seems this idiot thinks I've kidnapped you.  Please come inform him you're tired of nursing him and his bucket of bolts and have traded up."  He pulls the door open further and Jade steps out.  
   
The Doctor drops his chin, as though he's looking over the top of a pair of glasses.  Funny, this regeneration hasn't been seen in glasses yet.  Old habits, I guess.  Or wait – maybe those are habits-to-be-acquired.  Time's a funny thing, a big ball of... never mind.  "Are you alright?" he asks.  
   
Her grin is wry at best.  "Yeah.  So far.  He's pissed about the security system trick, and that his TARDIS likes me better than she does him.  But otherwise…"  She shrugs.  
   
The TARDIS remark is a pretty good indication that she's still functioning with her own free will, but he still wants to be sure.  "May I check?" the Doctor inquires.  
   
Jade looks back at the Master as if for permission.  He's leaning against his TARDIS door, his arms crossed, one foot crossed over the other.  He gives a rather Gallic shrug then gestures with one hand as if to say, "Go ahead."  She takes a couple of steps away from his TARDIS, and stops.  She has no idea how far away she can go before the Master feels threatened, and decides not to find out; she's still within his reach, which should help.  The Doctor comes the rest of the way to meet her.  
   
"I'll need to be fairly thorough," he says apologetically.  "Closed doors indicate potential problems, or I'd tell you to use them to keep me out of things you don't want me to know."

"It's messy, and there's plenty I'm not proud of," she replies.  "But I know you need to look.  Go ahead."  She closes her eyes as his fingertips reach her temples.

He is thorough.  He pries open the mental equivalent of doors with rusted hinges, cupboards that appear painted shut, closets with stuck sliders.  He feels her physically wince once or twice, and murmurs his apologies out loud.  
   
When he's satisfied there are no traces of the Master, he starts to talk through the link to her.  _Keep wincing like I'm still poking about.  You do not have to do this.  Nothing I've done for you warrants you going off with him.  I can get you away from him, and get rid of him._

She mentally shakes her head, and thinks back, _I will go with him.  I've made a deal and I won't back out on it.  Besides, he finds my silly attempts to challenge him amusing, sometimes even clever.  I'll keep it up for as long as I can, and maybe throw a real kink or two in his evil plans when I think the game is up, or if it's something I just cannot let happen.  But I will take any pointers you have on dealing with him._

The Doctor sighs through the link.  He won't force the issue.  _He chose his title for a reason.  He wants complete control.  Needs it.  Something happened to us when we were very young; it's not important you know what, just that you know it's there.  Learn when to give in, Jade, or he will take you over.  And he'll make sure you know that you're doing exactly what you don't want to._

Dropping his hands from her face, the Doctor takes a step back.  "Fine.  Well, I certainly don't want you if you don't want to be here," he says out loud, sounding a bit put off.  "Off you go then, to play with your pretty new machine."  He turns his back on her and walks to the console.  
   
Looking surprised and hurt, Jade takes a couple of steps backward until she hits the Master's TARDIS door.  The Master lays a hand a possessive hand on her shoulder.  "Come then, girl.  We're leaving," he says while looking straight at the Doctor with a triumphant smile.  
   
The Doctor drops his gaze to the console.  "Her name is Jade," he replies, and flips the lever on the security system.  He doesn't raise his eyes again until the sound of the Master's TARDIS dematerializing dissipates.


	10. Leave it to crack!

The Master sits at his console working at one of the screens when Jade walks into the room, dressed in her coverall and carrying her toolbox.  "Just what do you think you're doing?" he asks indignantly.  
   
"Where's the last place you went before the Doctor's TARDIS?" she queries back as she sets the toolbox down, instead of answering his question.  "Metebelis 3?"  
   
"Of course not," he replies, with a snort.  "Make sense, girl."  Like anything those crystals can do is worth the damage to a body that can't regenerate.  
   
Jade bends down and pops the access panel off the base of the console.  "Our pretty lady says she has spiders in her works.  Or at least a nasty case of cobwebs."  
   
"Seriously, girl!  You're human; the TARDIS can't communicate with you."  
   
"She's a smart thing, perfectly capable of making herself understood.  I was trying to watch a movie, but no matter what I put in, all that came up on the screen was _Arachnophobia_.  After the fourth time, I got the hint."  Really, getting John Goodman when you expect Colin Firth is a pretty big clue.

"Maybe you just can't work the viewer?"  Ooh, that was mean.  Sexism?  Species-ism?  Jerk.

"Hell-lo, temporal mechanic here.  Think I can."  Jade lies down and pulls herself into the console base.  "Holy crap!  Eeeeeeew.  Hang on, sweetheart, lemme get something to clean this out."  Pulling herself back out, she stands up.  She's got spider webs in her hair.  He smugly decides not to mention it.

She stomps out of the console room and comes back with a handful of rags.  Ducking back under the console, she starts cleaning.  Her running commentary is loud enough for the Master to hear, and he's pretty sure that's done on purpose.  "Eeew, eeew, yuck, and eeew.  So much for a Good Housekeeping seal of approval for us.  Why didn't you tell Mister Evil you were infested?  Nobody answer that; I imagine the two of you aren't speaking.  Well, that's better.  Now, lemme see what needs tightening down while I'm under here."  
   
The Master pulls up his diagnostic screen, ready to flip the entire console to isomorphic if it looks like she's pulling something dodgy.  Tools clank; the commentary continues.  "Pretty lady, you are one elegant piece of work.  Oh, hang on; that's loose.  There ya go, baby.  Hey, this is completely unplugged.  Where does it go?"  There's a little crackle of electricity.  "Thank you, sweetheart.  Got it now."  The Master takes his finger off the switch he just flipped, the one that hasn't ever worked, and doesn't say a word.  
   
When she's finished, Jade stands in front of the Master with the filthy rags in one hand and her toolbox in the other.  He has a map of some sector of space on the monitor; the diagnostics screen is hidden.  "You know," she says, shaking the hand with rags at him, "you'd have a much easier time of things if you'd make nice with her." 

He just scowls and bats the dust from the rags away from his face.  Evil does not 'make nice' unless it wants something.  Which he does from his TARDIS…  Okay, maybe Jade has a point, but he's not going to admit that to her.  "Don't lecture me, girl.  Go get cleaned up.  You're filthy, grease-monkey."  
   
"You're welcome, Mr. Evil."  Jade pulls a face and leaves him.

Through the mental link, he can feel his TARDIS is doing the mechanical equivalent of whistling tunelessly.  Rassilon, she's smug.


	11. Ah'll be crack!

The Master walks into the galley and smells some food he's never had before.  He's occasionally encountered this smell in the Doctor's TARDIS when the other Time Lord has a human pet, but he has no idea what it is.  It's not unappetizing; buttery, warm.  Jade's made food and hasn't offered to share.  Now, where has that girl got to?  It's an infernal nuisance, keeping a pet.  Really, he ought to put a tracking device on her.  He can't imagine how the Doctor handles two or three at once.  Oh wait – he's already seen that the answer to that one -- 'poorly'.  Heh.  
   
His ears take over from his nose, which he's been following through the corridors.  He hears gunfire, and loud combustion engines, and shouting, and… an explosion? 

Jade's watching a movie in her room.  The lights are dimmed; she's sitting on that huge bed of hers which is still made, leaning against the pillows that are propped up against the headboard.  She's in her tatty striped bathrobe, knees drawn up to her chest, only her toes peeking out from the hem of the robe.  The smell he's been following is coming from a large bowl full of small white pieces next to her feet.  Her hand seems to go from the bowl to her mouth and back automatically, because her entire attention is focused on the screen.  
   
The Master checks out the movie.  A muscle-bound man in camouflage is interrogating another man by holding him off the edge of a tall cliff.  The prisoner screams out an answer, and the interrogator releases him to plummet to his death.  The Master can't help but smile in approval.  
   
"Don't hover.  Sit."  Ah, she's still watching the movie, but she's not quite so focused as she appears.  He looks around the room but finds no chairs.  Looking back to the bed, he finds her watching him.  She flashes him an all-too-knowing grin, looks back at the screen, tilts her head sideways toward the empty half of the bed, and pats the area beside her once.  "Your reputation's quite safe, Time Lord."  
   
The Master sits stiffly on the unoccupied side of the bed.  Finally, feeling foolish, he swings his legs onto the bed and adopts her method of using pillows against the headboard as a chair-back.  The characters on the screen -- the muscle-bound man from the previous scene and a smaller, thin, dark-skinned female -- have broken into a military-supply store and are looting, but with a purpose.  This is not what he has observed as the normally preferred entertainment viewing for a Terran female.  "What is this?" he asks.  
   
"_Commando_.  Late twentieth-century, Earth.  I felt like watching somebody blow some shit up.  Barely any plot, cheesy dialog, the leads can't act.  But bullets hit flesh and stuff goes 'boom' with delightful frequency."  How 'bout that?  The short, blonde, curvy Earth-girl has a violent streak!  The Master smirks just a bit and considers the possibilities as he starts watching the movie.

After a few minutes, he remembers what brought him to this room to begin with.  "And what are you eating?" he asks, reaching for the contents of the bowl by her feet.  
   
"Popcorn," she replies, a little surprised.  By the time she started traveling for the Time Agency, humans had spread their favorite movie-accompanying snack across the universe.  If a species knows about humans and has the same nutritional needs then they know about, and probably eat, popcorn.  But this guy's been messing with Earth for how long now and he doesn't recognize it?  That would explain the work she had to go to in order to get some.  
   
He chews a piece.  "Not bad.  But where did you get it?"  He sure as Omega hadn't brought any on board or programmed it into the auto-mat.  
   
Jade stuffs another handful in her mouth, chewing to buy time before she answers.  Uh-oh.  She was hoping that issue would take a while for him to figure out, although deep down she knew it wouldn't.  She could lie and say she'd brought it on board with her, but she swapped TARDISes in a hurry and he'd probably see right through her. Sometimes the trouble with dealing with an Evil Genius™ is not the 'evil' but the 'genius'. 

Time to play 'shock the Time Lord' then.  More fun than watching Ah-nold blow stuff up, but also a good bit more dangerous.  "I had your TARDIS contact the Doctor's and grab the molecular information for the auto-mat."  
   
The only sound in the room is automatic gunfire as the protagonist on the screen rips through the antagonist's compound.  Jade's holding her breath.  
   
"My TARDIS can contact his."  It's spoken as a statement, but it's really a question.  
   
"Yup.  Any two can, if they've met.  Yours have.  Repeatedly."  In fact, they've been in verrrry close contact.  Inside, outside… the only thing they haven't done is upside-down.  
   
"Without being in the same place and time."  
   
"Any where, any when.  Oh, it's easier if they're both dematerialized.  Creatures of the Vortex, y'know."  Maybe now he'll stop thinking of his TARDIS as a machine.  
   
The sounds of the movie take over the room again.  The main character and someone who looks alarmingly like Freddy Mercury on steroids are swinging large pipes at each other in a boiler room.  Jade waits for the other shoe to drop.  
   
"And can they find each other, too?"  
   
This is where it gets risky for Jade.  How will he react to the knowledge that he's spent ages hunting the Doctor and laying time-traps when all he had to do was politely ask his TARDIS to fetch?  
   
"Yes."  
   
The Master eats more popcorn with a complete lack of expression on his face.  He silently watches the screen until the end of the movie.  There's hugging of females, which he doesn't care about, but in general the protagonist has disposed of his problems in a most satisfactory -- that is to say, very violent and very final -- way.  
   
When it's over, he stands up and walks out of the room.   Pausing at the door but not bothering to look back, he says, "Thank you, pet.  This has been most entertaining."  
   
Oh shit, he's plotting.


	12. The stroke of crack!

The black-walled console room is filled with the sounds of a keyboard clicking and an occasional mutter or quiet wordless exclamation.  The Master is sitting at his TARDIS console, face illuminated by a read-out screen, typing away with a slight scowl of concentration on his face.  His vocalizations come every time the screen displays something he doesn't like, which is quite often and increasing in frequency as he types.  
   
With a low snarl of "Rassilon!" he leans back in his chair and rubs the back of his neck underneath the high, silver-embroidered collar with one hand.  Twisting his head side to side, he notices Jade leaning on the doorframe to the console room.  She's got her arms crossed, observing him with a slightly smug smile.  
   
"What do you want, girl?" he growls as he glares at her.  
   
"You're trying to find the Doctor, aren't you?" she asks, rather than answering his question.  
   
Is that a flicker of guilt that crosses his face?  No, of course not.  Evil Time Lords don't feel guilty.  And it's none of her business what he's doing, unless he wants her to know. 

He starts to tell her so when she interrupts him.  "Our lady told me," she said, gesturing at the console.  
   
By the Untempered Schism, who's the Gallifreyan here?  _I'm_ the Time Lord, _I_ communicate with _my_ TARDIS.  You're just a brain-deaf human that I took away from my part-time shag, er… enemy, to piss him off, and for a little entertainment.  _Our_ lady?  Told _you_?  I don't bloody well think so.  "I keep telling you that's not possible, girl."  
   
Jade walks over to stand next to his chair at the console.  "I had my bedroom viewer off, trying to read, and suddenly it started showing Road Runner cartoons: 'Beep-beep', packages from ACME, the whole nine yards.  She wouldn't let me turn them off until I told her out loud that I got it."  The Master just glares without speaking.  "Hey, at least it wasn't Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd…"  She's smirking.  Well, wouldn't you?  "So, obviously she's pissed that you want her to hunt him up and you're not taking 'No' for an answer.  I think I'm supposed to tell you to knock it off."

The Master knows damn well that his TARDIS is upset.  He can feel her.  He sure-as-Omega didn't need her to send the human to translate.  But he also knows what he wants, and who's the Master here, anyway?  "I will find him, with or without this thing's help," he declares, rather exasperated with the whole situation.  
   
"She says it's gonna be without," Jade confirms. 

The Master looks to be at a bit of a loss.  Uh-oh.  Confused Master will turn into Angry Master, who will turn into Determined-to-Raise-Hell Master.  She'd better head it off before it starts.  "So, do what you used to do before you knew she could find him," suggests Jade.

Ah, a trap…  Find a nice, quiet little planet, figure out something that would set their government, economy, climate, or what-have-you into chaos and wait for the Doctor to come running in to make it all better.  Threaten his life a couple of times, catch him or be caught, shag him silly when nobody's looking, and run away leaving him to clean up the mess and thinking he got off easy.  And if he doesn't show up, it's almost as satisfying just to have made the mess, and we just start over again on planet after planet until the Doctor does put in an appearance.  
   
Hey, wait a minute.  Jade's a former Time Agent and a former companion of the Doctor, and she's pretty much declared for the side of good and un-mucked-up timelines.  She's been doing everything she can so far to keep the Master from causing trouble.  This is not right.  
   
He grabs her arm.  "What aren't you telling me, girl?  You're suggesting I ruin a climate or start a war?  What are you up to?"  
   
Jade yanks her arm out of his grip and turns away from him, answering as she walks towards the door.  "Maybe I'm tired of being awakened by cartoons on my bedroom viewer.  Maybe I'm bored, just like you.  Maybe I think there's nothing you can do that he can't stop you."  That last one was dangerous; it might tempt him to think of something the Doctor can't fix.  She's afraid that one day he will, and then four hearts will break, two by two.  Five hearts, if she's there to witness it.  
   
"And maybe you want to go back to him?" finishes the Master, quietly.

She whirls back to face him.  "No!" she says, and then hopes she hasn't given anything away by how quickly she denied it.  Time for damage control, and fast.  "I made a bargain; I'll keep it.  Your half was a one-off and mine's ongoing, but still…  I said I'm yours.  I am."  There, a bit of long-suffering self-sacrifice might cover the scent.  You decided to get yourself a human, buddy; now you're stuck with her.

The real "And maybe…?"  Well, that's her secret.

From back in the dawn of human time – back when their history was oral, back before they could work metal – their myths have humans outwitting the gods.  If some toga-clad primitive could manage to steal fire, then a hot-shot temporal mechanic should be able to keep a couple of mere semi-immortals in line, shouldn't she?


End file.
